Chapter One: The Second Young Master of the Chen Family

Central State.

The city was a cacophony of noise and lights, awash in neon and the gleam of nightlife. Inside the bar, beams of light flashed across the haze, and under the intoxicating glow, frenzied men and women twisted their bodies in wild abandon.

With a clatter, Chen Cao fastened his trousers, staring intently at the droplets of murky yellow liquid trickling down the toilet seat, unable to suppress a curse: “Damn, I overdid it!”

Bang! Just then, the door cracked open, and the heavily made-up, alluring woman pressed her hand against it, peeking in. Her eyes, still bright and innocent beneath the intoxicating haze of alcohol, darted quickly as she closed the door again. Pressing her proud chest against the wood, she extended a delicate finger, beckoning to Chen Cao as he fastened his belt.

“Heh, you little minx, still following me into the men's room? Planning to take advantage of me?” Chen Cao glanced at her voluptuous figure, gave up on the tangle of his drunken belt, and pressed himself against her, sliding his hand under the skirt that could not be any shorter.

“Mm!” The beauty said no more, but a whisper of a moan escaped her upturned lips as she wrapped her arms around Chen Cao.

Outside, the music thundered on, the DJ stoking the crowd to a fever pitch. This was the prosperous age, this was life as it was now. Who could say what tomorrow would bring? Tonight, there was wine and wildness.

...

In the garden, during the height of summer, the air vibrated with the chorus of insects, a tranquil and harmonious atmosphere.

At the center stood a dark southern-style villa, shrouded in silence. Yet any sharp-eyed observer would notice the occasional shadow gliding through the darkness.

From the far left room on the third floor, a sliver of light leaked through a crack. Steam still curled from the cup of tea on the desk, next to a thick stack of A4 papers. The bold red heading read: “On Strengthening the Reserve Forces for National Security...”

“I want to know how you got in,” the man said, standing before a landscape painting, his back slightly stooped in a black suit. His frame was thin, almost frail.

“All these bodyguards were trained by me. Do you really think they could keep me out?” As he spoke, a large hand gently lifted the steaming cup, the cup seeming small and fragile in his grip. He brought it to his lips, blew away the froth, and drank the golden liquid in one swallow.

“Fugui, the Chen family has so little blood left. Must you really take him away?” The man in black turned, his gaze sharp as he looked at the other man with the teacup. As he spoke, his hair, already tinged white, seemed to gather more snow, and he rapped the desk with his knuckles.

The Fugui he addressed was the man before him, dressed in a crisp dark green military uniform. On his shoulder gleamed a golden general’s star; it was the only mark he bore.

Seated at the desk, Fugui seemed to shrink the vast desktop with the bulk of his frame. The dark skin of his face, his severe and unsmiling features, spoke only of one thing: ruthlessness.

The man in uniform set the cup down, tapping the table with his fingers as his eyes closed. The room was both peaceful and heavy with tension.

After a long moment, he finally forced out a sentence through clenched teeth: “Fusheng, this is the Chen family’s duty.”

...

“Chen Cao, will you marry me?” In the spacious back seat of a Hummer, the girl nestled against him, tracing circles on his chest with her slender finger, her full lips breathing sweet words in his ear.

“I will, because I love you,” Chen Cao replied, eyes half-closed, lifting her chin gently without a second thought.

“I know you’re lying, but I love you too. No matter what happens, never leave me. Promise?” The girl’s cheeks flushed deeper as she buried her head in his not-so-broad chest.

“Silly girl, how could I leave you? How could I bear to?” Chen Cao murmured sweet nothings as he pressed his lips to hers.

He’d lost count how many times he’d said these words, and every time, he silently asked heaven, “Damn it, what do those words really mean?”

The car started to tremble again. Outside the window, four bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses stood around the Hummer. Feeling the car shake, they quietly moved a few steps away.

Such behavior from the Chen family’s young master—precocious, adept at sweet-talking women—was old news to them. Their only duty was to ensure the young master’s absolute safety.

...

At the forest graveyard, Fugui, the man in the general’s uniform, stood tall beside the man in the suit—who was barely half his height.

“It seems, no matter what, the promise I made to the Cao family must still be kept,” the suited man said, gazing intently at the headstone.

Dawn was just breaking, the sky pale as fish-belly. After a night of insect and tree frog chorus, the world had grown quiet. The suited man’s deep words echoed like distant thunder.

At this moment, the weather was fine. In the dim morning light, one could see that the grave was surrounded by neat rows of what locals called “dogtail grass.”

The general’s face remained set in its grim military cast, but as he placed his hand gently on the other man’s shoulder, his features softened. “It’s only three years. If it doesn’t work out, he can always come back.”

Though the general’s hand merely rested briefly, the suited man trembled as if struck, but then a smile broke across his face, his teeth bright and white.

“Fugui, do you really think the Chen family’s bloodline is that weak? If my son—your nephew—serves only three years and comes back here to be another playboy, how will you, as his general, answer to the elders of the Cao family? Don’t forget, he is your own nephew!”

He adjusted his well-worn suit, drew a deep breath, and looked at the headstone, his back more stooped, his hair whiter, but his eyes sharp as ever. “I, Chen Fusheng, will never let the Cao family look down on us. Not twenty years ago, and not now. My son will be no different!”

At these words, Chen Fugui’s stern face broke into a smile, his teeth gleaming in the sunlight—a striking contrast to his military uniform.

No laughing! Chen Fusheng shot him a look.

At once, Fugui closed his mouth, hiding his teeth, but after just three seconds, both men broke out in hearty laughter, startling the birds in the trees.

...

Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, weary with exhaustion, Chen Cao stepped out of the stretch Hummer. He gazed at the deep southern three-story villa, took a deep breath of the morning air, and felt as if his lungs were filled with sweetness.

He pulled the keycard from his pocket, the door unlocking with a soft beep. Glancing around like a thief to ensure the spacious room was empty, he hunched down and slipped past the leather sofas.

Suddenly, a ghostly voice echoed through the room.

“Young master, you’re back.”

Thud! Chen Cao dropped to the floor with a sigh. “Uncle Tang, it seems no matter how many years I play hide-and-seek, I’ll never beat you. Your skills have only gotten better!”

Uncle Tang, dressed in the style of the old Republic, stood at the corner of the sofa, his snow-white hair still steaming, clearly just back from morning exercise.

“It’s not that this old man’s skills have improved, young master. Times have changed. Didn’t you see the surveillance and the access system?” The old man’s face wrinkled into a smile.

“Oh? So I’m just outdated, doomed to be nothing but the Chen family’s second-generation loafer!” Chen Cao lamented, flopping onto the sofa, seizing the teacup on the rosewood table for a gulp, swished it around his mouth, then spat it out rudely. “Where’s the old man? Off to some board meeting with my white-collar sister again, I bet!”

Uncle Tang was long accustomed to the young master’s attitude toward the house’s owner. Calmly, he poured a fresh cup of hot tea for Chen Cao. “You’re half right. Miss has gone to the company; the master is waiting for you in the study.”

“Pfft!” Chen Cao nearly choked on his tea. After a moment gasping for breath, he stared at Uncle Tang. “What? You can’t be serious! The last time I saw the old man was a year ago and he beat my behind raw with a whip—nearly took out the family line! Isn’t he worried about ending the Chen bloodline?”

Meeting his father was never a good thing in Chen Cao’s mind; a chill ran through him, goosebumps prickling his skin.

Uncle Tang, used to the young man’s antics, nodded serenely, confirming his words.

“Ah, Uncle Tang, since my last thrashing I haven’t even talked to the mayor’s daughter. I swear, I changed my phone number, and I heard she’s found a boyfriend and won’t try to jump off any buildings over me anymore.”

He paused, eyes darting. “Could it be the deputy police chief’s daughter? No way—I barely know her, haven’t even touched her finger!”

...

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